


Death Pinball

by Hokuto



Category: Death Parade (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-19 23:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17011233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/pseuds/Hokuto
Summary: Another day, another game - but in Septendecim, the game doesn't work quite the same way as it used to.





	Death Pinball

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rosemarycat5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosemarycat5/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! ♥ I hope you don't mind that I combined a couple of your prompts that I thought would work well together...

Despite the pleading of the overworked information bureau, she never rushed to introduce herself to her customers. She preferred to watch them for a little while first as they explored the bar's confines, met each other, wondered what had happened and where they were, and only then would she step out to introduce herself and the rules. It was probably a good part of why she was still on the seventeenth floor, although she didn't mind very much; it was convenient for visiting friends, and that was far more important to her than the advancement some of the other hosts fought so hard for.

The old woman stepped through first, fearless. She paused to watch the bright goldfish darting in the lily-filled pools by the elevator; she touched the dark, soft-worn wood of the half-walls lining the way to the main bar, and she was the first to call out, "Hello? Excuse me? Is anyone there?"

"Must be closed," the boy in the studded black jacket said. "Forgot to lock the door or somethin'." He stared down at the fish, drumming his fingers on the wood hard enough that Septem would have to buff the marks out later. Then he laughed, roughly. "Don't you worry, granny. You look classy enough for a joint like this, but they'll kick my ragged ass out soon as they catch me."

"You shouldn't say such things about yourself. Anyway, I'm sure there must be someone here. Maybe they're in the back?" And the old woman came up to the bar to call again, "Hello? Hello?"

Septem stepped out from behind the glass walls of liquor and bowed, grateful that the fall of her bangs hid the first look on the old woman's face at seeing her. "Welcome to Septendecim. My name is Septem, and I'll be your hostess for your visit."

"Don't have to bother with me," the boy said sullenly. "I can see myself out, yeah? I know how it goes."

"Not at all," Septem said. She never let her smile waver. "This is just where you're meant to be. Please make yourselves at home. Ah - especially since you can't leave yet..."

"Whaddaya mean, can't leave?"

"Excuse me," the old woman said, her voice thin and breathless, "but - I think I'd like to sit down, please."

The boy ran all over the bar, beating on panels and kicking at doors with his heavy leather boots, while Septem helped the old woman onto one of the stools and made her a pot of green tea. Eventually his furious energy wound down, and he returned to the bar and took a stool, glaring at Septem. "Gimme a beer. And spill. What's the catch? You said we couldn't leave yet, so when can we split?"

Septem doubted the boy had been legal to drink in the living world, but she passed him a beer, a glass, and a coaster in hopes of preventing more clean-up later. "I'll explain in just a moment. First, do either of you remember how you got here?"

"I - oh. That's odd," the old woman said, putting down her empty cup. "I can't remember at all - I think I was out doing some shopping? But I don't remember coming in here."

"Me, neither," said the scowling boy. "Not my kind of joint."

"Very good. Now, here are the rules..."

Those she hadn't changed much from the ones she had been taught, beyond softening the words. The game - pinball - she had. The original machines had been towering nightmares of leering skulls and steel flames, looming over the players like the gates of hell; of the two she called up for her guests, only one still bore a few bony traces of its original design that mostly blended in with the new American biker theme. The other had been completely transformed into an idyllic land of fairy-tale winter: snowy trees, frozen ponds and perfectly formed icicles, cozy European cabins snuggled among the pines with warm light shining through their frosty windows, even white-capped mountain peaks around the outer walls.

The old woman gave the biker machine a dubious look and said, "Goodness, I don't think I've played anything like this since I was your age, young man. You'll have quite the advantage over me."

"Oh, uh, actually..." The boy scratched the back of his neck, and a flush lit his tanned cheeks. "I'm, uh, not real into those kind of games. I do more, like, racing games? And some of those MMO types. You know, where you get to be a knight or a mage or whatever and save the world and stuff."

"I see. Well -" The old woman smiled at him. "- then it will be pretty close to a fair game. Good luck to both of us!"

"Yeah - good luck to you, too, granny."

Septem stood back as they each settled side by side at the pinball machines - the boy staring down the wintry landscape, the old woman facing off against the bikers - to watch them play;

(a silver ball rocketing off a helmet painted with flames and _Do what you want. It's not as if you'll be getting into any decent schools with your grades, not like your brothers_ )

(the fluttering of skate-shaped paddles and _lighting the incense in front of the shrine like every other morning, ignoring the ache of arthritis that made it more difficult every day_ )

and in the pocket of the tailored suit she had chosen for work that morning, her fingers curled around soft, threadbare cloth and yarn.

The old woman hit five thousand points with a beautiful shot directly into the gaping mouth of the lone remaining skull and clapped her hand to her mouth as _Fine, waste your life! Waste all your time on those silly games and your no-good friends! But we're not going to throw away money on any of your foolishness! Your brothers never acted like this_ slammed through her soul. The boy bounced a ball between the trees and into the open door of a cabin, reaching eight thousand points, and he flinched at _Read it again, mommy! Read it again!_ echoing in his head.

That was something else Septem had changed about the games she ran. Quin had wept into her bourbon because of the extra work it had meant, but no one had been able to argue with Septem's results yet.

Another thousand points for the old woman, scored through the handlebars of a vintage Harley-Davidson; two thousand for the boy, sliding over a patch of ice into another welcoming house; and both of them played through a haze of tears and sweat as the memories poured over them. Septem stayed where she was, but she couldn't help leaning forward just a little bit as the balls rattled around the machines, biting her lower lip even though she could no longer really feel the pain of it.

The old woman's hands gave out first. Her cramped fingers slipped on the knobs, leaving her last ball to spin out and fall into a gutter. Null points for _walking through the crowds without seeing a soul, every growl of every passing engine a taunt, and if he can't escape one way there's always another, waiting for him in the streets_.

A moment later, the boy scored his final two thousand points through a mountain pass, but his victory left him hunched over the machine, his hands digging into his spiked, bleached hair because _she looks up from the onions and sees him at the intersection, taking the step as the lights flare red; the blood in the bathroom never came out, not really, and she's calling for help as she reaches for the back of his jacket because if she can stop him, if she can save him, if she can stop it even once, then maybe -_

She reached out for him again, and he fell into her arms as he hadn't in the living world. "Ssh, ssh," the old woman said, stroking his back, "it's all right, it's all right. Congratulations on winning. Poor boy, you were trying so hard, you just didn't know where to go."

"I'm sorry, granny, I'm sorry, I didn't mean - I didn't know you - I didn't want you to get hurt!"

"Ssh, it's all right. It's not your fault. How could you know what this old woman out shopping was going to do? And I'd try again, if -" Her voice cracked, and Septem's hand tightened around the dolls in her pocket. "What else could I do? But it's all right, ssh, ssh. It's not so bad as you think. Really, you've done me a favor, haven't you?" And she raised her eyes to gaze at Septem's still face and said, "Right? Chiyuki..."

Septem reached out to touch the boy's head, gifting him rest, before she said with all her remaining heart, "Mom -"

* * *

They talked for a long time, sitting together at the bar with first the pot of green tea and then Memento Moris, as the boy slept deeply on one of the plush lounges. They talked of everything, in no order: of Quindecim and Decim, of aging in a mournful house, of ice skating and Chavvot. Of the fall, of blood, of regret. Of death and mannequins, and of what was, in its way, a second life.

Chiyuki thought that they might have talked forever, if they could have, finally listening, finally hearing each other; but she could imagine Nona impatiently tapping her foot, Quin's tears at the backlog of souls, Decim overloaded as he tried to take some of the work, and when a natural lull came in the conversation, she said, "I still have to judge both of you, you know... It's the rules."

"Send the boy back," her mother said immediately. "Give him another chance - he's not a bad young man, he was just angry and in pain and confused. Let me stay here, with you - whatever it takes, Chiyuki, please, I can't lose you again. Not now, when we're finally together, when we can really talk again. I won't leave you."

"You can't stay." She took her mother's hands, felt the fragile shell of the mannequin under the skin rather than true bone. "Human souls can't survive here for long. What had to be done for me to stay and become an arbiter -" She swallowed at the memories, still fresh and glass-edged despite the passage of years. "- you really don't want to go through that."

"I do! If that's what it takes - I'll do anything!"

"Please, Mom. Please don't. Just -"

Her mother's arms wrapped around her, tight and steady, familiar and warm, and Chiyuki trembled, wavered; but she hugged her mother back and said, "Just go back. Live another life as hard as you can, as much as you can, and - and one day I'll see you again. I swear. Please, Mom. Go back and live."

"Chiyuki -" Her mother held her more tightly, wrinkling the suit's lines. "What about the boy?"

"He'll go back, too. I don't know if you'll meet each other again, and you won't know each other even if you do, but - he can have another chance."

Her mother stroked her hair. "I'm so proud of you, Chiyuki. This -" She laughed a little, sniffling at the same time. "- this really isn't anything like what I imagined you'd do when you grew up! But I can see that you're working hard and doing your best, and after - after everything, how could I ask for more?"

Chiyuki's resolve faltered again - _Ask for more! Beg for more! Don't let me send you away, don't break this connection now that we've finally made it_ \- but she had been Septem now longer than she had ever been Chiyuki, and she forced herself to let go of her mother, to step off the stool and away from the bar. "I'll wait," she said. "I'll be here when you come again, I promise. So - don't hurry back, okay?"

"All right," her mother said, and she wiped at her eyes and managed to smile. "I won't rush. It's - it's hard to know what to say to you, but - please be happy, if you can. It's all I've ever wanted for you."

"I can be," Chiyuki said. "I can be, now."

She laid the boy in one elevator as gently as she could and let the doors close on him; she stood in front of the other and waved her mother off, smiling, until both of the elevators with their inscrutably gentle masks were long gone; and she didn't cry.


End file.
